Wayward Devils (Souls of the Road #4)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

T he ache in my shoulders was back, tightness in neck and jaw that hadn’t eased since we’d pulled ourselves out of the wreckage of At?’s attack.

Something was wrong with Lula. I knew it too .

“We’ll figure it out,” Abbi whispered earnestly. “I have the stone. Oh! And the feather. We can call Crossroads, or the owl lady, or Valentine. Yeah! A ghost werewolf will make everything better.”

“No,” I said firmly. “That ghost werewolf doesn’t make anything better.”

“Okay, but we have friends. We have friends who can help.”

I thought about that. Did we have friends? Lula and I had been traveling the Route for so long, we’d met a lot of people.

But had we made friends ?

I supposed she had because she’d been alive—flesh and blood. Ricky, the Crossroads, was her friend.

There were others here and there along the Route whom she visited. Not a lot of humans anymore. Most of them had passed away. But there were others she’d met and helped or charmed. People who might help us if she asked.

But I didn’t know what kind of help we needed. Could anyone help us get the book and destroy it before At? found us again? Could anyone help us hide it away in a god-protected town? What price might they pay if they did?

Ordinary might not even be what the god and demon had told us it was. No matter how friendly they’d tried to be, I didn’t trust a single word that came out of their mouths.

Still, there might be a place—if not Ordinary, somewhere —where the book could be buried and lost for good this time.

But that wouldn’t solve the problem of us being a target for At? or other powerful beings. Especially if they thought we were their ticket to holding the book, to casting its power.

I rubbed at the back of my neck.

Maybe that was what was on Lu’s mind. Maybe she was thinking farther ahead, beyond finding the book and dealing with it.

Maybe she was looking at our future.

Maybe she didn’t like what she saw.

Abbi tugged on my hand, urging me toward the door. “We should go. Lorde is asleep, and it’s hot outside.”

I let her lead me across the restaurant to the outside.

The temperature had cranked up, lapping off the pavement in watery tongues of heat. The parking lot shimmered with a mirage of black and grey.

I paused in the relatively cool shade of the doorway to remind my lungs how to inflate.

Abbi let go of my hand and skipped off to our truck, “Silver,” parked in the shade of a red cedar tree. Our fuzzy black dog lay sprawled in the bed, dripping wet from playing in the sprinkler Hado must have turned on.

I didn’t see Lu.

Abbi scrambled up the fender and over the tailgate.

I muscled my way through the heat to the truck. “You okay, girl?” I asked Lorde.

She was part chow chow and part shepherd, a big black fuzzy creature. Dripping wet, she looked half her size. She panted and swished her tail, as Abbi tromped around the bed, moving blankets and pillows.

“How about we get you to a nice, air-conditioned motel?” I scratched behind the dog’s ears. She narrowed her eyes, mouth open, content. “Come on up into the cab.”

“We’re riding in the back,” Abbi said. “Together!”

“You can’t ride back here.”

“Yes, we can.” She plopped down on the blankets next to Lorde. “See?”

“Children aren’t allowed to ride in the backs of trucks.”

She pulled her backpack off and into her lap. “I’m not a children.”

“You look like one and if anyone sees you, we’ll get a ticket.”

She blew a raspberry. “No one’s going to see me. I’ve got a magic feather!” She held it up like a torch, then tucked it into her pocket before the wind tugged it away.

She patted her knee. Lorde turned a circle, then settled next to her, dropping her head into Abbi’s lap for gentle pets.

“We like the wind,” Abbi said, more to the dog than to me. “And I can help keep her cool.” Her chocolate eyes were moonshot, filled with a soft silver power.

The air around them did seem cooler.

Moon Rabbit.

Lorde made a happy growly sound and sighed.

“Well, I want a motel and a shower.”

“What about the Blarney Stone?” Abbi asked.

I wiped sweat off my face. “What about it?”

“I want to see it.”

“Then you need to buy tickets to Ireland.”

Abbi frowned. “Why?”

“That’s where you’ll find it.”

“But…” She dug in her backpack, laughed as Hado attacked her hand, then held up a brochure: Quirky and Oddball Sights You Cannot Miss on Route 66 .

“You have got to be kidding me,” I grumbled.

“'Stop by the delightful town of Shamrock, Texas, and kiss the Blarney Stone for good luck,’” she read. “We need good luck. Let’s go kiss that stone.”

“Abbi, that’s a tourist attraction to lure people into town.”

“So is the one in Ireland.”

I opened my mouth, then shut it. “You’re not kissing a stone.”

“I know. I’m gonna lick it.”

“Good luck.”

“Exactly!”

I turned, scanning the lot and restaurant. “Do you know where she is?”

Abbi had gone back to reading the brochure, her lips moving silently.

“Abbi. Can you hear Lula?”

She tipped her head and pointed toward the back side of the restaurant. “That way.”

“Stay here. No leaving to kiss the stone.”

“ Lick .”

“Especially no licking. I’ll be right back.” I crossed the lot, glancing in and between cars then considered the layout of the restaurant. I took the closest corner to the back side of the building.

Lu was there.

She leaned against the building, one foot up, her arms crossed over her chest.

The man in front of her was wiry, but taller than her. He wore a white T-shirt, black vest, black jeans, and motorcycle boots.

I knew him.

I’d last seen him in Illinois, when he’d pulled a gun on us, shot Lorde, and stolen the book.

Hatcher, the monster hunter.